


The heart holds on tight

by Gypsywriter135



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, You might want to see a dentist, because this has so much fluff it could melt your teeth, just told through the eyes of Stiles and Derek, sort of character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsywriter135/pseuds/Gypsywriter135
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek loves Stiles. Stiles loves Derek. It's not a perfect relationship, but the best ones never are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The heart holds on tight

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd at all.
> 
> I got a little carried away with parentheses... Stiles made me do it.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."

-Mother Teresa  


Lot’s of people thought that Stiles couldn’t be quiet to save his life. That wasn’t quite true. If there was one thing that Derek had learned over the past two years, it was to read between the lines where Stiles was concerned.

 

For one thing, the talking. Sure, Stiles talked a lot. _A lot._ He babbled when he was nervous and had no brain-to-mouth filter. He tended to spout a lot of random things that seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with his situation and only made people more stressed. The things he sometimes said made people angry, because they felt that he was making insensitive comments about them or their lives.

 

And let’s not forget the sarcasm. God, it was like the kid was molded from the stuff. He used sarcasm when he was scared or wanted to deflect the attention from himself. It was his best weapon, and boy, did he know how to use it.

 

He gave Peter a run for his money, which was really saying something.

 

But Stiles knew how to be quiet, too. When there was a serious situation, he was fully capable of keeping his mouth closed. If he was thinking, he got quiet. Focusing required all of his concentration, which meant that most of the time, he forgot about what he was going to say to begin with.

 

It was like he had all this information in his head and the only way to convey it is to blurt it all out in a giant tandem.

 

When people tended to only to focus on his voice, they completely missed the seemingly random things that Stiles would throw in.

 

Like how he when was going on and on about the different ways that wolfsbane could harm a werewolf, he ended up talking about all the other purple flowers in the area. He had mentioned that his mother’s favorite flowers were Hyacinth’s, which looked very similar to wolfsbane.

 

During a training session, he had gone on complaining about how there was _so much crime_ in Beacon Hills that he could really defend himself against with his small, human hands and, “I’m telling you right now, if I have to break someone’s nose again, I’m going to throw up because, dude, that feeling and sound of bone is just sick.”

 

Everyone seemed to bypass the important information that he had once broken someone’s nose. (Derek had asked later, when they were alone. It had been at camp when Stiles was twelve. Some kid had been making fun if him because he had fallen off the rope ladder and landed in horse manure. Stiles had gotten angry and taken a swing at the boy. The scuffle had ended with the boy’s nose broken and Stiles being sent home for the rest of the month.)

 

It wasn’t hard to decode, really. People just tended to tune Stiles out and missed the important things that he was trying to convey without drawing too much attention to himself.

 

But Derek had never been particularly fond of words. He tended to let his body language talk for him, and had become a master at reading other people too.

 

So knowing what Stiles was really trying to say, or not say, sometimes, usually had to do with his actions.

 

While the boy could keep quiet, he just didn’t seem to possess the power to stay still.

 

Like when he was nervous. He could be spouting off some story about fairytales, but his fingers would always fiddle with the hem of his shirt. When he was thinking, he drummed them on the steering wheel of his jeep (his favorite spot to think, Derek had discovered). If he was thinking about his father, his lips formed a thin line. If he was thinking about Scott, his eyes narrowed. If he was thinking about school, he would cock his head. If he was thinking about other things, like the grocery list or how he was going to explain his way out of another situation, then he’d run a hand over his scalp. And if he was thinking about Derek, he’d lick his lips and chew on the inside of his cheek.

 

Running his hand over his head was another nervous habit, but more out of frustration than anything else. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he’d play with his hair. Only there wasn’t a lot of hair, so he just settled for petting himself, essentially.

 

When Stiles was scared, he’d make his face go blank. It was kind of unnerving when Stiles was scared, because then you couldn’t figure the boy out. You wouldn’t know what he was thinking or what he would do next. Usually the flailing limbs would help predict what his next course of action would be; just follow the pattern.

 

Derek had also realized that he was probably one of the few people who knew how smart and clever Stiles was. He was great student; he got all A’s and was able to go weave a tale out of thin air-a useful skill considering how many lies he had to tell to get out of compromising situations. He had even managed to maintain a perfect 4.0 GPA all through high school while simultaneously dealing with werewolf business and any other supernatural problem that seemed to be attracted to Beacon Hills.

 

Not to mention that most of the time, the plans that usually got the pack out of trouble came from Stiles’ careful planning (most of the time, it was Stiles’ fault that they were _in_ trouble, but the kid was like a magnet for disaster, so no one could really blame him. At least no one had died as of yet). The others like to chalk it up to Stiles being the son of a Sheriff, but Derek knew that Stiles was just really good at puzzles and seeing things that most other people missed, supernatural senses be damned.

 

It also really grated on Stiles’ nerves that Scott usually tended to ignore his input and do whatever he wanted anyways. (“Why bother asking me if he’s already made up his mind?” he had grumbled to Derek once.)

 

Scott himself sometimes got on Stiles nerves. Derek could tell easily when this happened, because Stiles would narrow his eyes and his mouth would snap shut before he’d spout off random nonsense that he thought Scott should know already. He’d shuffle his feet, as if he was holding himself back from physically attacking his friend.

 

People also tended to forget that Stiles _was the Sheriff’s son_. He knew perfectly well how to hold his own, no matter how uncoordinated he seemed. He could shoot a gun too (“Allison’s not the only with family who knows how to kill a person”). Stiles actually had a mean punch, as Derek had discovered long ago. He was skinny, sure, but he was lean. He had muscle on him; hell, the kid was on the lacrosse team, for fuck’s sake. He may not have played very much, but weight lifting and practice were still mandatory, and Stiles was no exception. He just hid it well and tended to wear baggy shirts that covered his muscles.

 

Stiles was also angry. He wasn’t as angry as Derek was, but he was angry all the same. He hid it well behind his goofy smile and his exuberant attitude, but lurking under the surface was red hot rage. Stiles was angry at a lot of things.

 

He was angry at death, for taking away his mother. He was angry at his mother, for leaving him. He was angry at his father, for not saving her.

 

He was also angry at himself. He was angry that he caused problems for his father, made his father worry. He had gotten it in his head at some point that he had caused his mother’s health’s deterioration. (Derek had fixed that real quick when he had figured that one out. It had taken a little time, but Derek was surprisingly patient. It had taken a lot of work, but in the end, Derek had made sure that Stiles _knew_ that there was no way he had caused his mother to die.)

 

Stiles’ anger was controlled perfectly. He took it out on seemingly inconspicuous things. He’d lock himself in his room and turn the music up. Derek’s still not sure what he does in there, but he respects the boundaries that Stiles set. Sometimes he will immerse himself so thoroughly in his research that he ends up finding things that connect everything in such a clear manner that it seems stupid that they had never seen them before. The anger helped him focus, helped him see better. With his anger, Stiles was able to concentrate on it, concentrate on pushing it away and finding things along the way (as opposed to Derek, who just let his anger rage on the surface).

 

It was also easy to see when Stiles was stressed. He’d chew on things. On the lacrosse bench during games, he’d nibble at his gloves. His pen caps were all decimated; pencils had teeth marks over the wood. There was a spot on the corner of his comforter that Derek had noticed was faded in color and thinner than the rest of the blanket, as if someone had constantly sucked and chewed on it at night (not that Derek was in Stiles’ bed often… they usually went back to Derek’s house for that).

 

Really, Derek often wondered why the others had never picked up on these things. Sure, they could smell the emotions coming off Stiles, and could tell the beating of his heart, but most of the time it was just Stiles. Derek had discovered long ago that trying to read Stiles like he did other humans was pointless; his heartbeat was always up, either from running, nerves, or his Adderall. His scent was the same, but his emotions were always mixed up, and then the scent of that stupid drug came into play and they might as well forget it. (Secretly, that was the reason that Derek had begun to study Stiles’ closer. He’d always told the pack that they needed to rely on their other, heightened senses more. Derek had no problem with that, but he _did_ have a problem with reading human signals. So while his pack practiced with werewolf senses, he practiced with human ones.)

 

Over time, Derek noticed all the little things that Stiles did, that no one else seemed to pay attention to (either that, or they ignored it, which Derek honestly could not fathom-Stiles was _interesting_ without even trying to be). And the more Derek noticed-the more time he spent _with_ Stiles noticing these things-he came to realize that he liked them.

 

He likes the way Stiles flailed his arms when he’s flustered. He likes the little fish-mouth thing Stiles does when he’s surprised. He likes it when Stiles gets tired because his head will nod every so often and when he catches himself, he’ll jerk up like he wasn’t expecting it. He likes the way Stiles opens his mouth as wide as it goes to bark out a soundless laugh when he finds something funny before hunching over and giggling into his stomach.

 

He learned that Stiles likes to order pickles on his burgers, only to take them off and eat them separate once he has the sandwich in his grasp. He always puts the ketchup on the patty and the mustard on the bun. He sleeps on his right side at night, facing the door, but usually ends up spread eagle on the bed by the time morning comes. He doesn’t like spearmint gum, but peppermint toothpaste is his favorite. He takes long showers and usually makes a beard out of the excess shampoo that he has (Derek knows this because of reasons-he also is the one who usually has to buy the kid more shampoo. Stiles uses more shampoo than Derek does, and he’s _pretty_ sure that Stiles has less hair than he does).

 

Stiles favorite band is All Time Low, and he hates white chocolate. He’s got every single “Friends” box set, and he can quote almost the entire seventh “Harry Potter” book word-for-word (Derek’s favorite is the third one-Stiles knows this-and they have long discussions about the books often).

 

Those are only a _few_ of the things that Derek has noticed and discovered about Stiles since the two met that day in the woods after Scott got bit. There’s so much more, so much that Derek loves (because yes, Derek Hale loves Stiles but the younger man is the only one who’s ever heard the werewolf say it).

 

Of course, there’s things about Stiles that Derek… dislikes. He finds annoying, more than anything.

 

The biggest one, obviously, is Stiles’ stubbornness (“talk about calling the kettle black,” he can almost hear Stiles growl). Derek really hates that if Stiles wants something, he’s going to get it, by whatever means necessary. It’s _especially_ irksome when Derek tells him that he can’t come on a “mission” because he might get hurt-it’s a cause for the majority of their arguments. Of course, Stiles usually does whatever he wants and that usually involves him ignoring Derek’s orders (“helpful suggestions,” Stiles corrects him), and he goes anyways, usually getting himself hurt in the process.

 

And Derek really hates it when Stiles is hurt. He swears that he’s developing an ulcer from all the times Stiles puts himself in danger.

 

(“And there’s that pot again….”)

 

Derek also hates the relationship that Stiles has with Scott. That’s not to say that he doesn’t _dislike_ Scott; the kid holds many endearing qualities, but he’s a potato. It’s just that Stiles drops everything for Scott and gets no thanks in return. Scott blows Stiles off more times than he can count so that he can be with Allison, or go do something that Stiles physically cannot do (like use his abilities to become co-captain of the lacrosse team…) Scott leaves Stiles behind and doesn’t wait for him; hardly acknowledges him at all.

 

Sure, occasionally Scott will come through as a knight in shining armor, but those are rare and far in between.

 

And Stiles likes to talk about his feelings; Derek doesn’t. While he’d rather sit in a corner and brood over things, glare at people, or snap at people who get too close because he’s trying to sort out his emotions, Stiles likes to talk it out (everything but his anger, unless that anger’s directed at Derek).

 

Derek just doesn’t _do_ feelings…

 

It’s funny, Derek thinks. Stiles is everything he’s not.

 

(“You did _not_ just make a ‘you complete me’ reference, oh, my God. You’re such a sap, Derek.”)

 

Derek ponders all this as he watches Stiles click through files on his computer. They’re in Stiles’ room; he has a report due tomorrow and he wants to make sure it’s perfect. Derek’s sitting on his bed, back against the headboard. He has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s been staring absently at Stiles.

 

“Please stop boring a hole in the back of my head,” Stiles says, sighing and clicking once more before swiveling his chair around to raise his eyebrows at his werewolf (his confused but still slightly amused look, Derek says to himself).

 

Derek merely matches the look, cocking his head to the side.

 

Stiles shakes his head and sighs. “Seriously, what? Your alpha eyes are distracting.”

 

“Would you like my alpha lips instead?” Derek smirks.

 

Stiles does his fish mouth thing before rolling his eyes, grinning. “As much as I enjoy your alpha lips, no. I need to get this report done. Last one of my high school career and I want to go out with a bang!”

 

“Honestly, Stiles, I don’t think that school can ever forget you,” Derek tells him.

 

“Aw, was that a compliment?”

 

Derek’s the one with the eye rolling this time. Stiles chuckles.

 

“That’s right. Almost forgot that giving out compliments is like pulling teeth for you.”

 

The older man shrugs. Stiles starts drumming his pointer finger against his jean-clad thighs. “Do you think pulling your human teeth or your wolf teeth would hurt more?” he muses out loud. “Like… the pain from taking out the canines would hurt like a bitch ‘cause that root is freaking deep. But having your wisdom teeth out would be kinda similar don’t you think? But the wisdom teeth are in the back and the canines are in the front so-”

 

“Stiles,” Derek growls without heat, eyes lighting up with amusement. There goes the word vomit.

 

Stiles snaps his mouth shut, the corner of his lips twitching as he tries to hold back his grin.

 

“Just curious,” he shrugs.

 

Derek shakes his head fondly.

 

“Seriously though, what’s up?” Stiles asks, leaning back to throw an arm over the back of the chair as he leans forward.

 

“Nothing,” Derek responds.

 

“Aw, come on, Derek,” Stiles prompts. “Tell me what’s going on in that werewolf brain of yours.”

 

Derek shrugs, trying to think of a way he can explain it to Stiles without sounding like a twelve year old.

 

Stiles is quiet for all of twelve seconds before he leans forward and scoots the chair forward to roll over, knocking his knees against the mattress. Derek follows him with his eyes. Stiles raises a hand and places it on Derek’s shoulder and looks at him with a serious expression.

 

“Use your words, Derek,” he commands in a playful tone.

 

Derek scowls and swats his hand away, Stiles grins. “I’ll get through to you one of these days. Mark my words.”

 

“I’d rather mark something else.”

 

“Not tonight, buddy boy!” Stiles says, eyes widening as he pushes himself back from the bed and rolls to the desk. “I have shit to do! Which isn’t getting done with you here anyways because your werewolf ways are a horrible influence and are distracting.”

 

Said werewolf smirks.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes and scoots back to the bed. Derek tracks his movements with keen eyes, resting on their hands when Stiles reaches over and intertwines them together.

 

“I’m not kidding, Derek,” he says. “I want to get this report done and then sleep. Last day of high school and I have hell to raise.”

 

“You raise hell enough, give ‘em a break,” Derek tells him. Stiles grins and shrugs.

 

“Yeah, but this is the only time that they can’t do anything, because technically I won’t be going there anymore!” He bites the inside of his cheek briefly before his eyes settle on Derek. “And don’t think that this distraction is going to deter me from asking why you’re so weird tonight.”

 

“Never,” Derek chuckles. He runs over his thoughts quickly before glancing down at their hands. He raises the pale flesh to his lips and presses a kiss onto Stiles’ knuckles.

 

Stiles’ grin widens, and he leans forward onto the mattress. “What was that for?”

 

Derek shrugs. “’Cause I love you?” he offers.

 

The beaming smile Stiles gives him is Derek’s favorite.

 

But it’s the love in Stiles’ eyes, returned fully, that Derek loves the most.

 

* * *

 

Stiles and Derek are on the couch in Derek’s living. There’s a movie playing on the TV and Derek’s lying over the expanse of the couch on his back, head pillowed in Stiles’ lap with one foot braced against the floor while the other presses against the arm of the couch. He’s sound asleep, head turned slightly to Stiles’ stomach with one arm crossed over his chest and the other hanging off the side of the couch. Stiles is playing with his boyfriend’s hair as he stares at the TV, not really watching.

 

He’s a little distracted, at the moment.

 

Of course, he’s always distracted; it’s gotten a little better as the years went by, but he’s still Stiles.

 

But that’s not why he’s biting the inside of his cheek as his thoughts wander.

 

Stupid werewolf boyfriend makes his already scattered brain even more scattered.

 

He’s got his ridiculously hot stupid face with his stupid eyebrows and his stupid leather jacket.

 

Stupid werewolf boyfriend.

 

Stiles grins to himself, eyes staring ahead. One hand leaves Derek’s hair to drum his fingers against the couch cushion and he licks his lips.

 

Boyfriend. Derek Hale was his boyfriend.

 

Now _there’s_ a thought he never thought he’d have.

 

Of course, once he had gotten over Lydia ( _that_ had been easier than he’d let on to. Stiles had _seen_ they way she and Jackson had looked at each other after the Kanima thing two years ago. He knew a lost cause when he saw one), he had begun to notice a few things about himself. Like how he was really concerned with what guys thought of him more than girls.

 

Okay, so maybe it was more of _one particular guy_ … (one who wore stupid leather jackets and was a freaking werewolf… Stiles _really_ knew how to pick ‘em…)

 

So after a panicked discussion with Danny (because the dude was just that awesome), Stiles had come to terms with his discovery.

 

It hadn’t taken very long for Derek to catch on. The guy wasn’t stupid (even if he had a stupid attractive face). Derek had spent quite a bit of time with Stiles at that point anyways, so he pretty much already knew a lot about Stiles.

 

Stiles had learned a little about Derek, too, those first few months.

 

His favorite discovery was when he found out that Derek was an avid Potterhead. Who knew?! The guy certainly didn’t _seem_ like the person who had read every book, seen every movie, and even owned a Slytherin scarf!

 

There was a lot about Derek that people had never bothered to find out.

 

Stiles had uncovered a multitude of information about everyone’s favorite neighborhood friendly werewolf. For instance, Derek was beast (pun unintended) when it came to books. You wouldn’t think it looking at him, but Derek read almost anything he could get his hands on. He’d start a five hundred page book in the morning before breakfast and he’d be finished with it by that night. He _loved_ books, more than Stiles did, which was really saying something considering that Stiles practically lived in the library. But Derek _devoured_ books (pun _intended_ , but that’s a rather gruesome story that Stiles would really not like to recall, thank you very much).

 

Derek also has an aversion to technology.

 

It’s not huge; he can work a microwave and a stove, but give him a computer and tell him to go nuts, it will usually end up on the floor with a broken screen twenty minutes later. Don’t even try to get the guy to work a camera; half the pictures would have his thumb in them (“It’s a digital camera, Derek!” Stiles had gaped.) while the other half would either be out of focus or have the picture cut off from the actual thing he was supposed to be photographing. To this day, Stiles can’t figure out how that happened.

 

It took him a month to figure out how to work his phone. Stiles had even explained it to him, and Derek still has problems with texting people. Usually, he just calls them because he thinks it’s easier, but he butt dials everyone and sometimes his texts aren’t legible because he presses too many buttons at the same time and can’t fix it.

 

(And dear Lord, _please_ never ask him to deal with the Camaro’s settings. Stiles _really_ doesn’t want to have a repeat of that. He’s still traumatized and he thinks that there’s a secret coven of evil forest creatures planning their revenge for Derek practically taking the forest down. “The car’s for _driving_ , not playing,” Derek had growled.)

 

Which was another thing! Derek’s bark was _so much worse_ than his bite! (Stiles knows this from first hand experience, and no, you are not allowed to ask. I like my private life private, Scott, and no, the puppy eyes are not going to work this time.)

 

Derek is a huge softie.

 

When Stiles had broken his arm in their Junior year of high school because he had tried to scale a four foot tall building and fallen, Derek had bought him a week’s worth of comic books. He had stayed and listened to Stiles rant about how Batman was better than every other superhero out there and when Derek had growled menacingly that if he didn’t shut up about it, he was going to break his face.

 

Stiles had blinked before grinning a challenge and going on a tangent about how Derek was like Batman in his own way, sort of, before Derek was glaring at him and climbing out his window.

 

That night, Stiles found a note taped to his bathroom mirror that read, “I am a creature of the night. A silent guardian. A watchful protector. I am the hero Beacon Hills deserves, but doesn’t need.”

 

(Stiles still has the note buried in his desk drawer. It’s his favorite.)

 

He also growls and glares at his pack a lot, threatens to cause them bodily harm if they don’t do what he says, but he knows that deep down, Derek really cares about them and is secretly proud when they sometimes question his orders. Besides, you have to know Derek’s growls and glares to know when he’s being serious and when he’s just joking (because as much as Stiles loves Derek, the guy really can’t grasp the idea of joking sometimes).

 

Stiles has all Derek’s looks organized neatly in his brain.

 

There’s the glare Derek gives where his eyebrows come together in the middle that means he’s confused about something and is trying to work it out. The one where his eyes narrow means he’s suspicious, but he’s willing to hear what you have to say. If the eyebrows are raised just slightly, then he’s either amused, or he’s already figured something out and he’s just waiting for you to do it yourself.

 

It’s when Derek’s jaw gets involved that the glaring becomes a problem.

 

If Derek’s jaw is clenched tight, then he’s annoyed and he’s plotting how to cause your untimely demise. When Derek purses his lips with his glare, he’s angry and he’s already killed you five times in his head. (Derek has a mix of all his glares especially saved for Stiles; Stiles is proud.)

 

His growls are largely the same, but he’s got special ones for Scott, Peter, the Betas, and Allison. They all sound the same because they _are_ the same. It’s a “I regret that you are a part of my pack and how can you be this stupid just listen to me” growl. (Stiles has his own grown from Derek too; it’s a combination of “I’m going to rip your throat out” and “I swear I’m going to make you regret saying a single word of the English language.” Stiles loves it. It’s like a lion cub trying to mimic his father). Those are basically the only three that Derek has, but it’s still easy to decipher them if you know how Derek thinks.

 

And the scary part is… Stiles _knows_ how Derek thinks.

 

Derek has a lot of baggage, Stiles realized. Of course, anyone who loses his entire family is bound to have problems, but Derek takes that to a whole new level. He had confessed to Stiles one night that he had led Kate Argent straight to his family because he thought that he had loved her. It was _his_ fault that his family was dead. (Stiles had tried to talk sense into him, tell him that there was no way he could have known, but he suspects that Derek still blames himself).

 

There’s also the fact that Derek’s a werewolf and it apparently messes with your head when people want to kill just because he was born the way he is (the Argents have gotten better at it, realizing that not all werewolves are bad, but Derek still has issues with them. “I don’t trust people who don’t trust me,” Derek told Stiles).

 

Yeah… Derek was a mess of problems. Add in a dash of your psychotic uncle killing your sister and a splash of insecurities about being an alpha, let sit for six years of guilt, and then take out to play with guns and Kanimas and crazy grandpas, and your omelette de Derek is ready for a meltdown! (He hasn’t had one yet. Stiles is still waiting on that _eventful_ day…)

 

Derek also has an unhealthy attachment to objects that Stiles thinks is a result of his past. For starters, the Camaro was Laura’s before she left to return to Beacon Hills. His leather jacket was a gift from her, too, and he’s a little obsessive about it (Stiles is the only one who’s ever been allowed to touch it, let alone wear it).

 

It turned out to be a real problem when the pack wanted to rebuild the Hale house. Derek had pitched a fit (Literally. Stiles isn’t joking here, people. Derek had growled and thrown things at the betas before taking off for six days). It had taken Stiles two months of pestering and whining (they were a new couple at this point, and Derek still had a tendency to do whatever Stiles wanted) before Derek had reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t until they’d started demolishing the unsalvageable bits of the house that Derek had disappeared and Stiles had found him having a panic attack behind the jeep.

 

(“It’s a monument, Stiles,” he had breathed when Stiles had gotten him calmed down. “They _died_ there and… I just… I _can’t_ …”)

 

It was only when Stiles had suggested that they rebuild it so it was exactly like the way the house been before the fire that Derek had come around to the idea. Surprisingly, though, he had vetoed the idea. (Too many painful memories, Stiles figured out later. Derek wanted to create different ones.)

 

But back to Derek being a sap.

 

Yes, the big bad alpha werewolf was a sappy Mc-sap. Stiles still remembers their first date when he was seventeen. Derek had glared at him when he had asked him, and Stiles had stuttered out an agreement. Derek picked him up at home at seven on a Saturday and they’d gone out to a fancy restaurant, where Derek paid for an expensive dinner. Then they’d gone to the movie theater to see the classic black and white they were showing (“The Wolfman” and the humor was not lost on Stiles). Then they went for ice cream and Derek kissed Stiles in his car when he dropped him off.

 

It was so sickeningly sweet and clichéd and Stiles _loved_ it.

 

They’re dates after that were a little sporadic. Most of the time, Derek was busy with the pack and alpha duties, so dating had to take a back seat ( _kissing_ , however, was acceptable anytime). Besides, it was hard to date an older, previously convicted for murder, man when you’re a seventeen year old and your father’s the Sheriff (Derek was terrified of Stiles’ father, it was hilarious). Besides, Derek was a total gentleman and told Stiles that they had to wait to do anything until he turned eighteen (“Dude, that’s so not fair!” Stiles remembers grousing. “I’m a teenager! How am I supposed to deal with that?!” Derek had tossed him a tube sock. Stiles was _not_ amused.)

 

Derek wasn’t a fan of public displays of affection either, so no one had really picked up on it (except Peter, because he was Peter and a total creep) until a few months after Stiles turned eighteen when Isaac had accidently walked in on them. The poor kid was still scarred.

 

The alpha likes to give Stiles little gifts every now and then; sort of like how a cat shows it’s affection and brings you a dead mouse. He brought Stiles chocolate flavored coffee when he was up late studying or researching, bought him a new iPhone just because he could. He had offered to buy Stiles a new car, but Stiles drew the line there; one, he loved his jeep, and two, he didn’t want Derek to think that he needed to buy his affection. Stiles loved Derek and Derek loved Stiles and that was that. Still, it had taken Stiles a while to figure out the motive behind that, too.

 

Derek was ridiculously paranoid about Stiles leaving him.

 

He supposed it makes sense, Stiles thinks. After what happened with Kate, the various relationships that Derek had had while he and Laura went to New York after the fire, Erica and Boyd leaving him during the Kanima incident (they came back, obviously, but that doesn’t change the fact that they _left_ ), Derek was so used to people leaving him (or burning his family, but let’s not go there), that he felt that the only way to keep them around was to buy them things.

 

When Stiles had sat him down and told him that he didn’t need to do that, that he wasn’t going anywhere, Derek had looked completely baffled. Even now, every once in a while, Derek will buy Stiles something. It’s not big, but a new book here, a decal for his car there, and Stiles will glare at a smug looking Derek.

 

Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a pack thing, a werewolf thing, or just a _Derek_ thing, but the older man also has to constantly be touching him. He knows the rest of the pack does it too (they’re called puppy piles for a reason), but it sometimes seems that Derek does it more. The first thing he does when he enters a room that Stiles is in is to come over and run a hand through Stiles’ short hair. There’s a kiss here, a nudge there; Derek plays footsie ( _yes, footsie!_ ) with him under the table and when they’re sitting on a couch or in close proximity of each other, Derek will hold his hand discretely.

 

It’s not always just Stiles, either, though he is the one who receives this attention the most from Derek. But Derek will touch the others too. He’ll shove Peter out of his way, push Jackson around, knock the betas around. He’ll even physically pick up Allison and Lydia to move them out of the way. His favorite pastime is cuffing Scott on the back of the head. It’s like Derek has to physically touch them to make sure that they’re there; that they’re real.

 

Which leads right into Derek being a cuddle bug.

 

(“I don’t _cuddle_ , Stiles,” was accompanied with a glare.)

 

 Oh, but he does. If the two are sitting near each other, Derek will pull Stiles into his lap and nuzzle at his neck. At night, and in the morning, Derek will curl into Stiles and cling to him. If Stiles is cooking or doing dishes or standing, thinking, Derek will come up behind him and put his arms around his waist, lay his head on his shoulder, and just stay there.

 

(“Stiles, that’s not cuddling. I don’t cuddle. Stiles, stop telling people that I cuddle. I swear to God that the next time you tell someone this, I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth. Stiles, stop!”)

 

Derek just has a lot of feelings, Stiles decided one night as the alpha barked out orders while the pack trained in the front yard. He just thinks that he needs to be manly and not show anything other than stoicism and that comes across as anger (and let’s be honest, here. Derek has _a lot_ of anger, there’s no way that he can keep it all bottled up. He’d explode, and Stiles just really doesn’t feel like scraping werewolf brain off the wall) that he comes across as unapproachable.

 

Stiles also thinks that people tend to forget how young Derek is, how young he was when the fire happened, and that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Derek had told Stiles that he was never meant to be alpha; that responsibility was to the first born and that was Laura. Most of the time, Derek has no idea what they’re up against and is going off information that he heard his family or Laura talk about.

 

It’s a thought that scares Derek shitless.

 

(“How am I supposed to protect them if I don’t _know_ anything?”)

 

Which is another thing, Stiles thinks. Derek gets scared just as easily as the rest of them, probably more, given his past. He is completely terrified of fire (gee, I wonder why), and when the Argents would threaten him in their early days, after Gerard and before Allison was inducted into the pack, Stiles could see the way Derek would flinch slightly. His eyes get this glassy look and he scrunches his eyebrows together, lips frowning, not glaring, and his head ducks down; that’s how Stiles knows he’s scared. (When there’s fire, though, Derek freezes up and it takes him a few seconds to move. At that point, he’s usually sprinting away from it as fast as he can and he doesn’t stop until he hits water; something about getting rid of the smell.)

 

Derek also needs to just get away from everything, like everyone else does. Sometimes, Stiles will come home from school to find Derek pacing his room anxiously. Those nights, Stiles orders pizza and Derek will rant about the pack, how he still doesn’t trust Peter, how Jackson is going to get himself killed, why Scott is a potato (Stiles has now taken to calling his best friend “McFry” and Scott has no idea why, which amuses Stiles to no end), and why Erica is going to get them all killed because she doesn’t know the meaning of subtle.

 

(“Gee, Derek. Maybe it’s because her alpha drives around in a fancy sports car and likes to make dramatic, showy entrances.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles.”)

 

But Stiles has also learned a lot of other things about Derek since they started being a couple. Derek is extremely ticklish (and wasn’t that _the best day in Stiles’ life_ when he had discovered _that_!). He has a unnatural obsession with peanut butter; Stiles is convinced that the guy could live off peanut butter and be completely content. He puts it on almost everything. Derek also prefers the veggie pizza over the meat lovers (“Laura was a vegetarian,” Derek had explained. “She got me hooked on the stuff.). His comfort food is Mac  & Cheese, because his mother used to make it for him when he was having a bad day. He has a bachelor’s degree in English. He can speak French fluently. When he gets nervous or anxious (because he may be a werewolf, but Derek’s still partly human), he paces until his mind is clear. When Derek is intently listening or thinking about something, he cocks his head to the left (when it’s with or about Stiles, he gets a little grin on his face while he does it that Stiles find absolutely endearing).

 

Derek’s favorite season is spring, because he likes the rain. He likes to sit on the porch and watch the storm roll in. His favorite color is orange (“It’s bright,” he had shrugged when Stiles asked why) and he has a birthmark on his hip that looks like a sheep (Stiles knows this because of reasons-he also thinks it’s incredibly amusing). Derek also has to take a shower at night or else he gets antsy; he doesn’t like to dirty his sheets when he goes to bed and won’t sleep on it if he hasn’t had a chance to shower.

 

Stiles has also discovered that Derek secretly likes to slide down the stair banister when no one is home.

 

(“Stiles, I swear if you tell anyone, I will kill you and your _father_ will never find you.”)

 

(Stiles is waiting for the day when he can use this information to his benefit; because let’s face it. He totally will.)

 

Stiles loves all these things about Derek. His favorite thing, however, is when Derek smiles, because it doesn’t happen often. But when it does, it’s the best smile in the room. His laughter is the best too, because it’s contagious. Once Derek starts laughing, it’s impossible not to laugh. And Derek laughs with his whole body, starting from his tummy and reaching all the way to his eyes. His shoulders hunch over and if it goes on long enough, he’ll start to wheeze trying to catch his breath.

 

But for everything that Stiles loves about Derek, there’s obviously going to be things he dislikes. For one, the way Derek always feels like he needs to protect and save everyone, like he’s got a debt to pay. Stiles yells at him all the time because Derek constantly throws himself into situations without thinking about the consequences.

 

(“It’s not just you anymore, Derek! You have a pack and a mate and think about how they’ll feel when you die doing something stupid!”)

 

Stiles also hates the way Derek takes care of himself. The man treats himself like shit; sometimes he’ll forget to eat for days until Stiles realizes it and forces food down his throat. He’ll forgo sleep in favor of running out in the woods, or working off excess energy. (“Laura always used to tell me when to go to bed or when to eat…” Derek had muttered when Stiles confronted him about it. Stiles made sure that Derek follows a strict schedule now, because the last thing he wants is for the man to keel over from exhaustion or malnutrition.)

 

There’s also the fact that Derek feels like he needs to make up for his mistakes. He’ll push himself to make everything right, to make everything the way it was before it all fell apart, and he gets frustrated when he can’t. Derek doesn’t owe anyone anything, and Stiles keeps trying to drill that into his head, but it’s a slow process.

 

Derek stirs slightly in his lap, and Stiles forces himself to concentrate on the real world for a while. He looks down and meets Derek’s sleepy gaze, green or blue or hazel or whatever the fuck color his eyes are (seriously? Derek’s eyes refuse to settle on a single color; it’s like they change every five minutes) peeking out at him through his lashes.

 

Stiles grins at him. “Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

Derek frowns, but hums in approval, closing his eyes again when Stiles runs his hands through his lover’s hair. He turns in Stiles’ lap and nuzzles his face in Stiles’ hip. Stiles is pretty sure that if he were a dog, Derek’s leg would be shaking in pleasure.

 

They stay that way for a few minutes before Derek sighs. “Puppies are coming,” he mutters, referring to the rest of the pack (which Stiles has been calling puppies for a year now and Derek picked up on because it was true; they’re a bunch of puppies).

 

“How long?” Stiles asks.

 

“’Bout ten minutes. They just crossed into the property boundary and are playing tag. Allison’s with them.”

 

“Of course she is,” Stiles chuckles.

 

“Send them away,” Derek groans, burrowing further into Stiles’ lap because, seriously, Derek? _Cuddle bug!_

 

“Yes, let’s send the human to face off against five werewolves and a hunter. That’s a great idea, Derek. Let me know how much you enjoy scraping my guts off the walls.”

 

“They wouldn’t hurt you,” Derek replies, confident.

 

“I know _they_ wouldn’t but let’s face it here. I’d probably fall and impale myself on a bayonet and then you’d go all alpha on everything and everyone and World War Three would break out.”

 

“Pretty sure Allison doesn’t have a bayonet.”

 

“Her creepy crossbow then.”

 

“She might have a sword on her person if you ask her nicely.”

 

Stiles glares at Derek and lightly smacks him on the forehead. Derek’s eyes snap open and he scowls at his human.

 

“Not funny, Derek,” Stiles hisses.

 

Derek frowns and reaches an arm up to grasp the back of Stiles’ neck before pulling him down and kissing him gently. “Sorry,” he murmurs against his lips.

 

Stiles pulls back until he can see all the different rings of color around Derek’s eyes. “You’re jokes are not funny. Stop trying to be funny. That’s what I’m for.”

 

Derek smirks. “Yes, Stiles.”

 

“Repeat after me: Stiles has superior joke telling and Derek is lame.”

 

“Stiles has superior joke telling and Derek is lame.”

 

Stiles nods slightly and pets the top of Derek’s head. “Good dog.”

 

“Woof woof.”

 

Stiles grins before kissing him again.

 

“Get a room, you two,” Peter sighs as he walks pass into the kitchen.

 

“We are in a room,” Derek tell him, smirking when Stiles pulls away for him to get up. “You’re the one intruding on our space.”

 

“Oh, the nephew’s feeling cheeky tonight,” Peter drawls from the other room. “Let me know how that goes for you when the pups get here.”

 

Derek stands and stretches, popping his back with a satisfying sound. Stiles leans over to shut the movie off and begins cleaning up a little around them while Derek makes snarky comments to Peter through the walls.

 

“Go find your leather jacket, grumpy,” Stiles says when it gets annoying, smacking Derek on the butt to get him moving. “Wouldn’t want the other dwarves getting the wrong impression.”

 

Derek grins, and Stiles can’t help but light up. “Sure thing, Snow White.”

 

It takes a moment to stop being blinded by Derek’s smile before Stiles realizes what he said. “I am _not_ Snow White.”

 

“Sure you are,” Peter says, poking his head around the doorway. “Derek’s Grumpy, I’m Happy, Scott’s Dopey, Erica can be Sleezy instead of Sneezy-”

 

“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” Derek snickers.

 

Stiles points a finger at Peter. “Enough. No more fairy tales. You’re being ridiculous and are going to get yourself killed by a hormonal teenage shewolf.” He turns his finger to Derek. “You. Go run a comb through your hair so it stops looking like you slept for six years.”

 

“So does that make me Sleepy instead of Grumpy?”

 

Stiles makes to go after him, but Derek takes off up the stairs, laughing as he goes. When he turns back to the mess on the floor before him, he’s grinning like an idiot.

 

Stupid werewolf boyfriend with his stupid amazing laugh and his stupid eyes.

 

Why must he be burdened to love such a perfect being?

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda wanted to do this thing where these two characters go on about the others. It's kind of like we're learning more about them, but through their eyes instead of just coming out and saying it. Plus, I love toying with relationship things.
> 
> I should be doing homework...


End file.
